The Iron Tempest

by Ron Miller

  “Well, just as he’d abandoned himself to this fate, what should happen but that a gate swung open in the wall! Rashid was a little too busy to take much notice of the newcomers who came through the opening, other than to realize that they were a trio of maidens each riding her own unicorn. However, as soon as the monsters became aware of the women’s presence, they melted away like salted slugs, leaving Rashid standing waist-deep in melting heads, arms, legs and bowels and feeling somewhat embarrassed at having to meet three lovely young women in such a condition.”

  “‘Lovely young women’?” repeated Bradamant, her eyes narrowing to splinters of steel. “What lovely young women?”

  “Control yourself. Rashid soon faced dangers greater than a horde of monsters and these three beautiful maidens.

  “And they were indeed beautiful. So exquisite were they that only a god could have told whether they were human or Euphrosyne, Aglaia and Thalia, those daughters of Jove whom men call the Graces. Indeed, for all I know, they may actually have been those goddesses. In any event, they brought their ermine-white mounts to a halt before the gory knight and held out their hands to him.

  “Rashid, blushing like a schoolboy, thanked them for his rescue and, if it pleased them, he would gladly accompany them through their golden gate.”

  “Gladly, would he?”

  “Bradamant, if you want to know what’s become of your lover, you must cease these jealous interruptions!”

  “I’m not jealous. Besides, I can’t help it.”

  “Yes you are. Yes you can. How can you say you love this man if you are constantly demonstrating that you don’t trust him? There’s no such thing as love without trust, Bradamant.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that.”

  “Please continue and I’ll try not to interrupt again! I promise!”

  “Hmm. Where was I?”

  “Rashid was about to go through the gate. With those . . . women.”

  “Yes. Rashid decided to leave Papillon outside the wall, if for no other reason than that the castle didn’t appear so far off that he couldn’t walk to it if he had to. Besides, the beast seemed to make the ladies’ unicorns skittish. He took his lance and weapons and walked alongside the mounted damsels, declining to ride their spare animal. As Rashid and the maidens approached the wall, he noticed that beneath the covering of vines and ivy and moss it was made of silver and gold, encrusted with jewels as big as his fist and supported by columns of solid diamond. The gate was swung open for the quartet by bevies of winged nymphs—graceful, lithesome, shamelessly naked creatures that fluttered lasciviously around the knight. They called him by name and welcomed him to Paradise.”

  “Paradise!” cried Bradamant. “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Rashid was as surprised and doubtful as you, but once he’d passed within the wall, he began to question his own senses instead. It seemed to him that perhaps he’d been suddenly immersed in a magically animated Pompeiian mural. Even the colors seemed unnatural, as though the artist who had created the landscape had either been too bold to temper his palette or too afraid not to. Everywhere were greens and blues and reds and yellows and oranges and violets as intense as electric shocks. Rashid’s eyes watered as he squinted against the radiant glamour.

  “The nymphs floated around his head like the nebulae of unformed planets around their sun, the unicorns looked like white-hot iron, the maidens riding them incandescent, their alabaster flesh gleaming from some bright, internal flame.

  “The three women now turned to Rashid and said, ‘We’ve long been familiar, even in this distant isle, with your valorous deeds. That’s what gives us the courage to beg you for your aid.’ They all spoke together in a pleasantly harmonious chorus.

  “‘Whatever I can do, you only need ask,’ replied the honest knight.

  “‘The way between here and Alcina’s castle is blocked by a swamp. There’s a bridge across it, a kind of causeway, but it’s guarded by a savage warrioress named Erifilla.’

  “‘Warrioress?’

  “‘A giantess, rather, with poisonous fangs and claws like a panther. She harries and harasses and bullies everyone who approaches her bridge, tricking and robbing them and usually killing them at the end. That mob of murderous monsters you recently met were but a few of her minions.’

  “‘She sounds unpleasant enough.’

  “‘Oh, she’s worse than unpleasant! Sometimes she leaves her precious bridge and runs around the garden tearing up the flowers and growling and spitting and making a dreadful nuisance of herself. She’s just awful.’

  “‘Well, if that’s all you require of me, than I’ll be only too happy to repay my debt in this way! I only wear this armor and carry these weapons to serve and help others—all the more so when those others are charming ladies like yourselves.’”

  “He didn’t say that!”

  “Bradamant!”

  “I’m sorry, but that was just a little too much!”

  “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  “I’m not so sure. I suppose so.”

  “Well then, remember what I warned you!”

  “Yes, ma’m.”

  “As I was saying: the three maidens were delighted to hear Rashid’s consent and regaled him with charming conversation, songs and laughter until they reached the bridge that belonged to the terrible Erifilla.

  “She was not all what the maidens had led him to believe. She was not, for example, much over seven feet tall and had neither fangs nor claws. She was wonderfully proportioned, though, with a mane of hair that shot from her magnificent head in all directions like the wind-blown flames of a bonfire. She was clad in armor made of gold and silver coins and covered with precious gems of every sort: rubies, topazes, emeralds, amethysts, agates, sapphires, hyacinths, corals, carnelians, peridots, garnets, turqoises and who knows what all. Even her sword, shield and spear were as encrusted with crystals as rock candy. She was mounted on a wolf almost as large as Papillon and Rashid was suddenly sorry that he’d left his pet outside the wall. Erifilla sat astride this monster with neither saddle nor bridle, apparently content to control it by the force of her will alone, and that she was perfectly capable of such a mental influence required only one look at the terrible beauty of her face as proof. Rashid was certain that she could in any event have squeezed the life from the great animal with her powerful thighs alone, and was sure that the wolf was equally aware of this. The only device on her cloak and shield was the image of a venomous toad.

  “As the maidens squealed and gathered their unicorns into a tight knot, Erifilla took a stance blocking the causeway. She scowled as she watched Rashid gingerly mount one of the fragile-looking unicorns.

  “‘Turn back, knight!’ she shouted. ‘Otherwise I’ll have to kill you! It’s a pleasant day, so I’m giving you this chance to spare yourself the shame of defeat. It’s an offer I seldom make, so I suggest you take it.’

  “Rashid’s only reply was to settle his lance into its socket and lower its point until it was aimed directly at the Amazon’s heart. Erifilla did not hesitate by even so much as a beat of that targeted organ, but dug her heels into her wolf and charged. Taken by surprise, Rashid had only a split second to get his mount moving and he hoped that the untested animal was not as effete and incapable as it appeared.

  “The ground leaped and shook beneath the impact of those paws and hooves as though it had the ague. The combatants struck one another like colliding thunderbolts. Rashid’s point caught Erifilla beneath the edge of her helmet and lifted her from the back of her animal—which somersaulted head over heels for another hundred yards. The Amazon was stretched out flat on her back six lengths away, her long body picturesquely surrounded by wild flowers. Rashid leaped from his horse and drew his sword with every intention of severing his opponent’s head. Erifilla’s helmet had been carried away by the impact and as Rashid stared down at that magnificent countenance, softened in unconsciousness, the lambent curls charming
ly mixed with ferns, flowers and stunned moles, he found his resolve wavering.

  “‘Why do you hesitate?’ the maidens asked, rushing to his side. ‘Finish what you’ve started and rid us of this nuisance!’

  “‘No,’ he replied, ‘she’s been overthrown. That’s sufficient. There’s no need to punish her further and no need to further delay our journey to Alcina’s castle.’

  “The maidens screwed their faces into disappointed moués, but even those irresistible pouts failed to sway the resolute knight. Having seen that he intended to do no more about Erifilla, they abandoned Rashid at the entrance to the causeway.”

  “Ingrates.”

  “Rashid crossed the bridge without incident, and the wood beyond, until he came, at last, to Alcina’s palace, which sat in the middle of a broad meadow. Beyond the castle the meadow ran into the dunes that marked the northernmost shore of the island. Rashid was surprised and charmed to discover the explanation for the glittering quality of its towers and the tinkling music that had been growing louder as he approached: the castle was covered entirely with tiny silver bells that made a shimmering mosaic of the air. It was an unexpectedly charming touch.

  “He approached the gate, but before he came within a dozen yards it was flung open and a hundred shouting, laughing people poured out and surrounded him. They were, without exception, the handsomest human beings he had ever imagined, even more beautiful than the three nymphs he had just left, but the woman who followed them, the last to pass through the doorway, made them all seem as coarse and ugly as Erifilla’s gang of monsters, just as the sun outshines the lesser stars or a diamond stands out in a handful of pebbles. Although Rashid had been under no illusions about Alcina’s beauty, he’d also been aware of Astolph’s reputation as a womanizer—that is, he didn’t entirely trust your cousin’s powers of discrimination when it came to women. Astolph is perfectly capable of considering barmaid and goddess equally attractive if they’re in turn equally amenable to his advances. With every confidence in his own virtue, Rashid had been certain that, however beautiful the sorceress proved to be, he’d have no difficulty recognizing the evil that lay behind that lovely mask. Therefore he was entirely unprepared for the woman who was now welcoming him to her musical palace.

  “To paraphrase one who had once met her, since I myself am no competent judge of feminine beauty, ‘she was as long and graceful and white as a stream of milk pouring from a pitcher and as perfectly symmetrical; her long, entwined ringlets seemed more lustrous than gold, which seemed a base imitation in comparison; her cheeks were tinted with the mingled dye of the lily and the rose, her forehead was as smooth, round and lustrous as a pearl. Slender black arches rose above clear black eyes—or rather two radiant suns, beaming softly and slowly. As if between two softly curling vales, her mouth glowed incarnadine, with a cinnabar tint; within were strung two rows of oriental pearls, which her delicious lips sometimes hid and sometimes revealed. From these lips flowed gentle words, gentle but with a force that would melt the heart of the rudest churl, and there also that charming smile is born which opens at will a paradise on earth. Her round neck was like snow and her bosom like cream; her breast was broad, where, fresh and firm, two ivory apples grew, rising and falling as the undulating waves pressed to the shore by the pleasant breeze. Her arms were sinuous and her long, narrow hands white. From beneath her gossamer skirt I glimpsed her feet: neat, short and round. Argus himself would not have been able to discern the rest, yet an observant eye might conjecture safely the nature of those things concealed from those charms that were revealed. Indeed no material veil could successfully hide such an angelic vision.

  “Everything about her was an enticement, every movement, word, song, glance or step an irresistible invitation.’

  “It’s no wonder that Rashid was ensnared.”

  “I knew it!”

  “Yes, I’m afraid you’re right this time. Rashid’s great strength and immaculate virtue were of no avail. No matter that he had been forewarned by Astolph. One glance at Alcina and he was no longer capable of believing that perfidy and deceit could keep company with such a charming smile. He was more than willing to blame Astolph for his own fate: he must have insulted the sorceress, Rashid decided, or been an ungrateful guest, or in some other way deserved to be transformed into a shrub. Rashid summarily dismissed everything he had been told about her as the basest falsehood, preferring to think that his fellow knight (perhaps because he was a Christian and a paladin of Charlemagne) was a shameless liar, motivated by spite and envy, than to think this beautiful woman capable of the slightest villainy.

  “Make no mistake, my dear; he loved you then and loves you yet above all others. It was not his heart that cast you out, but Alcina's evil magic that plucked your image from that organ, as easily and thoughtlessly as she’d pluck the last rose from a bush, crushing its fragile petals in her fist. She alone became the focus of all his passion and her name only could be found engraved on his heart. But don’t blame him, Bradamant, for his inconstancy, for the choice wasn’t his. Strength and virtue and purity of spirit are no defense against Alcina. He was as helpless before her as a newborn babe is before the hungry tiger. Had he known what he was doing, he’d have torn his heart from his breast rather than see it pledged to another.”

  “I do believe that,” replied Bradamant.

  “I knew you would.”

  “I can’t express my happiness, Melissa, after spending so many months with despair and anguish as my only companions. Just to be certain that he is alive! No matter that he be half the world away, I can feel his presence next to me, the press of his body, the warmth of his breath. The worst news I thought I would ever have to bear would be the news of Rashid’s death, but now you tell me what I would have thought unthinkable—unimaginable: that our very love itself is imperilled! I must go to him immediately. Rashid must be rescued!”

  “And he will be, my dear, but not tonight. You’re still weak and tired. One night’s rest will do you much good and certainly won’t do Rashid harm. We’ll discuss his rescue in the morning.”

  Bradamant, her face alternately as white and lusterless as paper and red and gleaming as a coal, had been striding up and down the room, clenching and unclenching her fists, beating them against her thighs, but when she glanced at the sorceress her fury drained from her as thoroughly as life drained from Talus when Medea opened the tap in his forehead. Her anger and impatience dissolved and she was overwhelmed by a flood of weariness.

  “You’re right,” she said, passing a shaking hand before her eyes. “Apparently I’m not yet as strong as I thought.”

  “No, you’re not. Go to bed. Rest. And, as I promised, we’ll discuss Rashid’s rescue in the morning.”

  Bradamant agreed and made her way to the same bedroom she had occupied the first night she had met Melissa. Her feet became more leaden with every step, her eyes and spirit ever heavier.

  This time, she ignored the mirror and the murals as she shed her armor and crawled into the huge bed, where she was soon fast asleep. She did, however, dream.

  She was first aware of the sound of zithers, lutes, mandolins, harps and lyres. The air around her vibrated softly with delightful harmonies and melodies. Someone was singing and though she could not understand the words, they were filled with the joy of love and ecstasy, of imaginative, passionate fantasies.

  She found herself in a great hall, in the midst of a sumptuous banquet. Neither Cleopatra, nor Ninus, founder of Nineveh, nor any Roman Emperor—nor even the Olympian gods themselves—had ever prepared such an exotic and voluptuous feast. It was certainly more lavish than anything the ascetic warrioress had ever experienced.

  When the servants had cleared away the débris, the guests moved from their seats and gathered in a circle on the floor, laughing and joking. “Let’s play a merry game,” Alcina said to the delighted applause of her company. “Everyone will whisper into the ear of his or her neighbor—it doesn’t matter which—and tell them a secre
t—any secret at all.”

  This suggestion was received with even gayer applause, and the women giggled and the men leered. The game was of course only an excuse for them to disclose without hindrance their mutual lusts with the result that a hundred passionate assignations were arranged for that very night. And for just this reason, the game ended before an hour was half consumed.

  The company broke up little by little, as the guests were led in pairs by torch-bearing pages to their variously alloted corners of the palace. Rashid was likewise led to his bedroom. It was a small chamber, but the choicest of them all. A glazed oriel let in streams of moonlight, like gossamer curtains half revealing, half concealing the downy bed—like a snowy landscape illumined by the aurora borealis. Fireflies flew through the open panes and traced cabalistic symbols in the air.

  Alcina’s servants again offered him sweet delicacies and aromatic wines, and he did not refuse them. As he ate and drank, he allowed himself to be undressed and soon the servants were bowing obsequiously and withdrew, leaving him to slip between the perfumed sheets like a great warship sliding down its ways into the waiting, silken waves. He listened for Alcina’s footsteps. At every sound his heart would leap and his breath would catch, but it would only prove to be an echo of some more fortunate lover and his head fell back onto the pillow with a heavy sigh. Finally, unable to contain his anxiety, he leaped from the bed and flung open the door—to be greeted by an empty corridor. In his mind he counted the tiles that must separate him from Alcina’s chamber and tried to imagine her delicate feet placed first upon one than the other, each one bringing her closer to him. But when his tally should have brought her to his threshold, still she did not appear.

  All this time, Alcina had been in her own apartment, waiting for the last vestiges of her party to subside, passing the time by anointing herself with rare and precious oils and perfumes. Now she pressed a delicate ear to her door and could hear nothing. The palace was silent. Going to an unobstrusive wall panel, she touched a hidden stud. The panel swung aside, revealing a dark passage. She quickly entered it and the panel soundlessly closed behind her.